


Never Correct Clark Kent

by angrythingstarlight



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Justice League - All Media Types, Man of Steel (2013), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:47:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27488320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angrythingstarlight/pseuds/angrythingstarlight
Summary: All Clark wanted was for you to give him a chance. Too bad you had your own plans, now Clark has to show you what happens when you correct Clark Kent.Dark!Story
Relationships: Clark Kent & You, Clark Kent/Logan (X-Men), Clark Kent/Reader, Clark Kent/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	Never Correct Clark Kent

The daily planet.

You’ve been waiting for this day for years.

Planted in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing people to move around you. The sounds of the city fading to a dull roar as you gaze up the skyscraper. You had dreamed about this building, this job since high school. When people asked you what motivated you during those childish ‘get to know you exercises’ in college, you always answered that you wanted to inform the world, knowledge is power, blah blah blah.

You couldn’t tell them the truth, that you got off on spite and bringing down powerful people. It probably started with that incident in eight grade.

Flashback

James, the lanky editor in chief was lazy and sloppy. This was just a thing to put on his college applications, so you did all the work without the credit. A few months of him talking down to you and no support from the teacher in charge, you decide to have a little fun.

The school paper was scheduled to go the same day as the parent-teacher conference. You delayed the printing so that you could make a few changes under James’s login on the school computer.

You give the papers to a few students to hand out as the parents arrive. You hop on a table near the back of the auditorium as it fills up, teachers and parents mingling as they look over the poster boards and projects.

You spot the first person to read your special edition, he stopped in the middle of the room before showing his wife. They both stared at Mr. Gregory, your English teacher, who was talking to a group of people. Another person reads it, soon the room is quiet as more people discover his dirty secret. You can’t decide what’s funnier, the befuddled parents, or his shocked face when he finds out.

He quit the next day.

James was suspended.

You became editor in chief by the end of the week.

Present day

As a woman in a male-dominated profession, you had to claw your way to the top. Not enough that you had the best grades, that you could bullshit your way into any story, no you had to be charming, sweet, and delicate. Setting your resentment aside, you discovered that the qualities you thought of as weaknesses you could use to your benefit. Oh, and you did, every relationship, every sacrifice crafted to propel your career. All your work paid off when you accepted the job as the newest investigative reporter for the daily planet.

Walking into the air-conditioned lobby, you see the large giant daily planet statue in the center of the room, you touch it reverently, feeling the ridges beneath your fingers. Taking a deep breath, you look around, spotting the elevators, you shudder. You find the directory, your finger tracing the daily planet name sliding across to the floor level, fuck level 24. You could walk it but you don’t want to be sweaty and exhausted on your first day. And these heels were not made for that level of activity.

You bite down on your lip, quickly releasing it when you remember that you have lipstick on. Pushing the button, you step inside and select 24 before closing your eyes. You list all your favorite journalists and favorite articles as you push your nails into your thighs. You open your eyes to see you’re only on floor 18, taking a deep breath, you adjust the strap on your heel as you balance your Givenchy purse on your shoulder. You straighten your black lace pencil skirt and make sure your blush ballet wrap top is tucked in. The elevator dings as it reaches the 24th floor.

The doors open directly into the daily planet offices. Over a dozen cubicles fill the room, phones ringing as people talk. A wall with clocks marking different time zones to the right, a courier collecting items as he circles the room. “Y/N”. You turn to see Perry White the editor-in-chief. He’s a few inches taller than you, casually dressed in a brown shirt and slacks, his salt and pepper hair cut short.

“Hello, Perry” you greet him warmly, shaking his hand firmly. You plan on taking his job one day.

“Let me show you around” He walks around the large open office space, you meet several editors, various writers, and other staff. Mentally sizing each one up, having researched every person once it was confirmed that you had the job.

You only consider one person your competition. He seems to get the best leads on America’s favorite new shiny obsession, Superman. “And this is Clark Kent, our senior reporter”. He stood taller than you imagined. His dark hair combed back, jeans and a plaid blue button-down shirt emphasizing his muscular frame.

You didn’t know much about Clark Kent, only that farmboy somehow managed to move up the ranks of this prestigious paper with a degree from Kansas University. You shake his hand, feeling the weak grasp, you conceal your distaste with a broad smile. “Hello, I’m Y/N”.

“Nice to meet you”. A faint blush streaks his cheeks as he pushes his black-rimmed glasses up with his finger. His full lips curling into a large smile.

This will be easy.

Over the next couple of days, you get oriented to the Daily Planet as you learn their process and work culture. With the skills you honed in college and prior jobs, you targeted staff that could benefit you, work friends are always beneficial. You’re at your desk, editing your first article when Clark leans on your cubicle. “Hi, Y/N if you ever need help with anything or have any questions, let me know”.

You continue to type, muttering an okay as you push a pencil behind your ear. Clark is not on your list of work friends. A few days of watching the golden boy strut around the room and you decide you not only want his job but you’re going to knock him down while you’re at it.

“Um, well my office is right over there, so feel-”

Standing up, you throw the pencil down, “I’m really busy right now” you snap. You walk over to the printer, waiting for it to process your request.

He wanders over, hands in his pockets, “So, I know this job can be stressful especially for newbies, I love to help, how about I buy you a coffee and we can discuss whatever you’re working on?”

Newbies.

Newbies.

You tuck a hair behind your ear as you face him. “Listen Clark” you sneer, keeping your voice low, “I am not a newbie, I am well established, they called me for this job, not the other way around”.

Before he can respond, your print job is done, you grab your papers and strut towards your desk. Over the next two months, you put out a few fluff pieces while you work on your real assignment. Using your contacts from your old paper, you had gained a lead on a hot story on a pyramid scheme involving local government officials.

You worked tirelessly, hunting down anyone remotely involved. Your piece de resistance was the taped confession you got from the mayor’s assistant. You infiltrated a benefit auction and got the sap hammered. A few lines about terrible bosses not appreciating hard work over shots of vodka and the idiot was baring his soul. He thought you were doing an expose on bars price gouging events, so he gave consent to be recorded before he got wasted.

You had been keeping Perry in the loop, for most of it anyway. So you were excited when he wanted to talk about your work. The taped confession burning in your pocket as you await your appointment with Perry. Knocking on the editor’s door, you hear a gruff “come in” from the other side.

You saunter in, admiring the view of the city outside large panel windows behind his cluttered desk. Your face falters when you see Clark sitting in one of the chairs. He stands, “Hello, Y/N” he says warmly.

You turn to Perry, “I thought we had an appointment at 1”. Desperately trying to keep your face neutral. Clark doesn’t sit until you do. When you realize that, your eyes actually hurt from trying to not roll them.

“Yes, Y/N, I have Clark here because you two have similar stories”. Oh, really. The portly man clasps his hands behind his head as he leans in his leather chair, “Normally I don’t do this but given the potential magnitude of this story, you should work together”.

You scoff, causing both men to gawk at you, recovering quickly, you plaster your professional smile on your face, “I apologize, Perry, it’s just”, you pause, glancing at Clark, “I think that I work better alone, I’m sure Clark would agree”.

His shoulder droops slightly as his brows furrow. He pushes his glasses up with his index finger, “Well there’s nothing wrong with collaboration” he says gently. “Some of the best journalists worked together”

“Then it’s settled” Perry booms, clapping his hands, “Now go and don’t come back until I have my story”.

Of course, of course, he would listen to a man over you.

You smile tightly as you leave the office, going to your cubicle. You slam your bag down and put the tape recorder in. You decide to hold on to it as you plan a way to take back your story.

The office is quiet as you and a few others stay late. You switch on your desk lamp when the main lights turn off. You’re reviewing your notes under the bright yellow glow as you chew on a pen, when Clark walks by, taking a chair from the empty cubicle beside you. He sits down waiting for you to acknowledge him. After a few minutes, you sigh as you look over, “Can I help you”.

He smiles as he leans forward placing his hand on his knee, “Y/N, I think somewhere we got off on the wrong foot, so I would love to start over before we get started on this piece”

Tilting your head, you smirk, “Oh no, I like our relationship exactly the way it is”. Picking your bag up, you stand over him, “And it’s my story, so back off or get run over, your choice”. You walk off, muttering under your breath about low-class hicks as you find the stairwell.

Clark doesn’t move, his eyes following your lithe figure, his jaw clenching as he keeps from crushing the chair under him. He can’t figure out why you dislike him. People love him, at least Clark anyway. He thought that if you worked together, you would get to know him, change your mind about him.

He looks over at your desk bare, with no pictures of family or friends, just a framed copy of your degree. He inhales your perfume that lingers on the chair. He can smell you anytime you enter the building, the sweet combination of vanilla and lilacs. You’ll like him, he just needs time to convince you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Ten days later, you’re back at your cubicle putting the finishing touches on your article. You roll your eyes when you see Clark walking towards you. He had emailed you a copy of his work a few days ago. You were impressed, he was talented. Almost disappointed that his work may actually be better than yours until you spotted it. Near the top of the page, an error. Two actually.

And the wrong name, you knew it was wrong because you had interviewed the man in question. Two of the letters in the surname were swapped, forming a different name that repeats throughout the rest of the article. The cherry on top was that the man was being accused of salacious acts. Senior reporter my ass.

His large hands holding a manila envelope, he stops at your desk, “Y/N” he grins, when you look up, pointedly rubbing your neck, he kneels down. “I was hoping we could get together for drinks, review each other’s work, and complete the piece.” 

“No” you declare before turning to your desk. He stands up and you can the hear the swishing of his pants as he adjusts his weight. “Oh, and I already talked to Perry, he wants to see both articles in 5 minutes to determine which one will get published”. You push your chair back, smirking when you see his nose flare. “Might want to hurry, ya’ hear” you drawl as you stroll away.

You’re chatting with Perry’s assistant, Kacie, fighting the urge to be sarcastic as she tells you about her date. The young girl believes you’re friends because you bought her a couple of drinks and told her that her cheap dye job looked good. She unknowingly gave you insightful information on your boss, so you put her with her prattling.

Mid sentence, you bite your lower lip to keep from laughing at Clark’s flustered expression as he approaches you. Turning to Kacie, “I’ll see you later”. She waves before answering the phone.

Clark opens the door for you, you brush past him. Sitting down in front of Perry, “Good afternoon, Perry, how are you?”.

“Yeah, yeah, what do you have for me”. He replies, not looking up as he types.

You put your article on the desk and motion for Clark to do the same. “Two vastly different perspectives on the same topic”.

Perry pushes the keyboard away and removes his glass before pinching the bridge of his nose. “I thought I told you to work together on this”.

“We tried, we just couldn't’ agree, so we felt that this was better” you counter smoothly, ignoring Clark’s incredulous expression.

He picks up your article while you take Clarks off the desk. You flip through the pages, his perspective was more hopeful than yours, he found several options to help victims and offered solutions while you honed in on the seedier side of it.

You fidget in the chair, giddy, waiting for your moment. Eyes flickering over to Clark, when he notices the smile on your lips, he smiles back. You wink before clearing your throat. “Perry, Clark’s article is good, this is an insightful take on the situation”.

Perry nods as he sets your article down, both men focused on you as you continue, “Unfortunately”. You pause adjusting your skirt, “ If this got published, you could be sued for defamation of character or be forced to print to a retraction due to Clark’s gross negligence. ”

Clark sits up straight, eyes widening as Perry splutters, “That’s a bold accusation Y/N”.

You stand up and walk over to Perry’s side, flipping to the page in question. “Look at this” you place your finger under the name, “This person is a deli worker, not a member of the city council”. 

Perry sighs as he flips through the rest of the page, “Clark, it’s in here multiple times, how did you miss this’.

Clark stands, reaching over the desk and takes his article back, groaning as he spots his error. “Perry, I-”

“Oh, and Clark”, you interrupt, “expenditure is spelled e-x-p-e-n-d-i-t-u-r-e”. You pick up your article, putting it in front of Perry, “My error-free, fact-checked article is ready to go Perry”. 

You walk out giggling to yourself. Clark stares after you his eyes faintly glowing. 

“Clark, Clark”

He turns back, his baby blues eyes softening,” Yes Perry?” he calmly asks.

“Look she’s” he gestures obscenely, “but she’s good and she’s right, had this not been caught, we would have been liable for damaging a man’s reputation, you’re better than this”. Perry turns, indicating his dismissal.

You were chatting with Craig the food critic about new restaurants when Clark storms over. “I need a minute” he spits out. “In private”

“I’ll talk to you later” you wave as you follow Clark to the breakroom. The small room is empty, the faint smell of coffee in the air. Leaning against the table, you chuckle “How may I be of service” as you examine your nails.

“You didn’t have to do that in front of our boss” he hisses, eyes flashing, “you had that information for days.” He paces in front of you, “you could have spoken with me first”.

You admire his ass in his jeans. Too bad he’s in your way.

You shrug, “True, but this was more fun”. He stops, turning to tower over you, lips pressed together as his face reddens. “Think of it as”, you pat his cheek, “learning a lesson, a way to teach you how to be better, you are very welcome”.

You walk out, slamming the door, cackling in the hallway.“Or you can go back home and milk a pig or whatever you do on farms” you mutter as you go back to your desk.

John taught him to control his anger, that his responsibility was to hide his strength. He was told to always be respectful and gentle with the fairer sex. It’s getting hard to remember what John told him. And he was wrong about many things, maybe John was wrong about this too. 

It’s been so long since he’s had anybody, not since Lois and that ended years ago. When he hears your quip about the farm, he pictures you suspended from the roof of his barn, naked as he takes you from behind.

He blinks and rubs his forehead. The image lingering, becoming clearer, more vivid. He can hear your moans, begging him to stop. He pours a cup of coffee, chugging the scalding liquid. You screaming out his name, no, you calling him daddy. He shatters the cup as he looks down to see he’s hard. Cleaning up the pieces, he puts on his Clark Kent facade and walks out.

The next week, you’re sitting at your cubicle holding the freshly printed paper, your name in the byline on page 3. You beam as you swing around in your chair. You pick up the phone, smiling at the paper as you talk. Beyond your cubicle, you miss Clark observing you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

You’re in the breakroom unpacking your lunch when he walks in. He walks around the table, pouring a cup of coffee. You scroll through your phone as you eat. Ignoring the small huff behind you, you take a sip of water.

“Y/N”

“Clark” you respond.

The chair scrapes the floor as he pulls it and sits. “Can we talk?”

You shrug as you continue to look at your phone, “Knock yourself out”.

He exhales sharply, “Okay, I don’t know where we went wrong, but if we’re going to work-” His hand slams down on the table, startling you, “will you look at me” he demands.

You lean back, putting your hand on your chest, “Well color me surprised, meek Clark has a little bite to him”. When he clenches his jaw, you tsk, “Now you wouldn’t want me to file a complaint about workplace intimidation, look I already spanked you once, let’s not make it happen again”. You resume scrolling through your phone, watching him out of the corner of your eye.

Clark abruptly stands, the chair falling over. You expect him to slam the door shut, but he closes it softly. “Maybe not as much bite as I thought,” you say as you eat.

Clark rushes to his office, locking the door. He sits down, your employee photo already on his screen. He pulls out his thick aching dick, one hand cradling his balls as he works his shaft, staring at your smiling face, imaging how your ass would look after a thorough spanking. He squeezes harder, his hand slipping over his swollen tip before gliding up his shaft. Your pretty eyes bloodshot as you cry, begging for mercy as he spanks you harder. He softly grunts as he cums in his hand, panting, looking down to make sure he didn’t stain his jeans. He cleans himself up and spends the rest of the day in his office.

Once again the majority of the office leaves around 6pm, you and a few others stay late. You scorn the others running home as soon the day is over. How can you be the best if you’re not willing to do what it takes, put in the hours. You see Clark leaving his office, he glances at you before walking to the elevator, his head down. You smirk at his back, maybe the golden boy has finally learned.

Walking back from the printer an hour later, you notice his door is cracked, a faint glow inside. You look around and see that you’re the only one left. Even the cleaning staff finished a while ago. You open his door and amble around his desk, his computer is on. You move the mouse and the home screen pops up. 

Didn’t they teach to put passwords on your shit in Kansas?

You scroll through his documents, a file catches your eye. He’s working on an embezzlement conspiracy involving some of the most well-known businesses in Metropolis. There have been rumors about their shady dealings for years, no one has come close to exposing even one of them. This is a game-changing, put you on the map story. Analyzing his work, you see he’s still at the beginning stages. You lean back in his chair, putting your feet on his desk.

Tapping your lips, looking at the files. You make a decision. Sitting forward, you print everything before deleting the files and the recycle bin. You take everything from the printer, scrolling through the settings, you delete the printer’s memory as well. You flounce out of the office and pack up your belongings before heading to the stairs.

Clark backs away from the window, flying to your apartment.

You park on the street and walk up to your place. You picked the top floor, even though you walk five flights of stairs daily, it’s worth it because you hate neighbors. Finally reaching your apartment, you throw your bag on the bed and take a shower. After you get dressed, you take notes, there’s a warehouse mentioned several times, you plan to check it out tomorrow. You fall asleep with the papers spread around you.

Clark steps out of the living room and walks into the bedroom. He gazes at your sleeping body, amazed at how sweet you look when your mouth’s not running. That mouth will be put to better use soon. He looks at the papers and smiles when he sees you circled the warehouse. He brushes your hair, backing off when you turn. He leaves to prepare for your arrival.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

You finish walking up the 24 flights of stairs to the office, changing into your heels at the desk. You look over to see Clark leave his office, his normally well-groomed hair is tousled and he looks pissed. He storms into Perry’s office and slams the door shut. The sound reverberating through the open space. Marica one of the editors, peeks over your cubicle, whispering, “What is going on with him, I’ve never seen him angry”.

You shrug as you snicker behind your hand.

Everyone can hear the yelling in the office but the doors are just thick enough to muffle the words. 15 minutes later, Clark stomps out. Perry follows, “You have three weeks Clark”. They both slam their doors shut, the office falls quiet as people whisper. Perry’s door opens, “And everyone get back to work”. He slams the door again, the blinds shaking from the force.

A few hours later, Clark leaves the office, his tweed brown coat slung over his shoulders. You’re on your way out as well having confirmed the location of the warehouse. You’re checking your purse for your camera and tape recorders when you bump into Clark. “Oh, sor-” you stop when you see him. “Rough day” you smirk.

The elevators open and he steps inside, holding the doors. Your breath catches as the sight of the small space and you shake your head, “No I like the stairs”.

Clark watches you open the door to the stairwell. Interesting. He thinks back and he can’t recall ever seeing you take the elevator since your first day. Its always been the stairs, you get here early every day and now he knows why.

For once, your eyes held something other than smug superiority.

Fear.

It looks good on you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Five hours later, you finally reach the warehouse. You were expecting it to be in an industrial district or something similar. This is even better, if you were going to be involved in shady dealing, this would be the perfect place. You see that it’s empty, you park your car a mile down the road, behind some brush, and walk back.

You take a picture of the outside, the parking lot is unpaved covered with various tire tracks and cigarette butts. The brick building is five stories high, then rows of windows across and five going up. Several of the broken out, surprisingly little graffiti on the outside.

You walk to the front of the building, there’s an opening with doors on the left and right. You take the door to the right and see that the first floor is covered in dirt and trash, cobwebs having from every surface. Graffiti lining the walls and white pillars in the middle of the room.

The dank musty smell making you cough as you walk through. You take a few more pictures as you walk around. You find the stairs in the next section. As you walk up, the stairs creak under each step, you grab the railing only to immediately pull back when you touch something sticky. Wiping your hand off on your skirt, you spot offices on either side of the hallway. The two doors are locked, they appear empty. Looking in the dirty window of the third door, you can see a desk. You jimmy the lock and swing the door open.

This is the place.

You see the office is renovated and clean. The floors are shiny and the walls are painted a bright white. Four tall metallic cabinets lined up against the wall. An expensive leather chair sits behind a desk. You take pictures as you walk through before sitting on the chair. You open the drawers, finding a bottle of scotch and some pens. Putting one in your pocket, you continue to look around. The rest of the office is empty.

You’re heading to the next office when you hear a low screech. Stopping you, listen as your heart begins to pound. You hear it again, closer this time with footsteps. The dull thuds moving fast up the steps. You move back into the office and hide under the desk. Covering your mouth to hide your gasping breaths, you close your eyes.

“Oh, Y/N”

Your eyes fly open as you crouch lower.

“Y/N, come out right now”

Is that Clark?

“I know you’re in there”

That is Clark, shit, he must be here about his story. He can’t prove a damn thing.

You crawl out and stand up. “What the hell Clark”. You gasp and fall back on your ass, crawling back towards the wall.

Clark’s eyes are red, he’s floating five feet above the ground.

“Princess you and I need to have that talk now”.

Before you can move, he’s pulling you up in the air by your arm. You swing around and he throws you on the floor. Your back hits the ground and the air is knocked out of you. He picks you up, tossing you over his shoulder, ignoring your weak attempts to fight him. He takes your purse. “Hold on”. 

When he levitates, you pass out from sheer terror. 

Your car sinks into the river as he flies over.


End file.
